


Savior Of My Heart

by Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness



Series: Cullrian Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternative Universe - Galavant, Crack, M/M, Sassy Dorian, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness/pseuds/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness
Summary: “He’s a refugee, we found him and decided to escort him to Denerim. You know how gentleman I can be.”At that, the prisoner’s head lifted, an indignant expression on the visible part of his face. He pursed his lips in anger.“Of course I know. You usually like to give up your weapon rather than actually fight me.”Samson had another dry laugh, but his eyes looked panicked. “That was only one time.”“Which I’m happy to keep reminding you.” Cullen lost his smile. “Now, Samson, will you release your prisoner or do I need to put you over my knee again?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: "May I request for Dorian x Cullen for the Galavant sentence meme - Any man can get knocked up. The hero is the man who gets back up."

The forest was quiet that day. Quiet and peaceful.

Cullen was on the way for a meeting with the King and the other knights, and he was mostly excited about it because he could stuff himself of the King’s sugar cookies. He was looking forward to it, less to what the King had to tell them. Last year they had to wrestle naked in oil for the annual competition of chivalry to please the public, he hoped he had a better plan this year. Oil was very difficult to wash off, but at least his skin had felt amazing after that.

His horse was trotting forward, Cullen’s hair blowing in the wind, when he heard some commotion ahead of him. Right after a turn, there was a group incoming. Bandits.

“Good day to you,” he called ahead.

“Knight Rutherford, what a pleasant surprise,” the leader, Samson, greeted him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve last seen you.”

“We were near the borders earlier this week, killed a few runaways for their money. You know how it goes.”

Cullen glanced at the lot, there was five of them, then he pointed at the last person behind.

“And who’s this?”

Samson shook his head, let out a nervous laugh. “No one to care about. A new addition to my crew.”

Cullen smiled. “Is this why he’s handcuffed and tied to one of the horses?”

The man on foot looked miserable, to say the least. His once beautiful clothes were dirty and ripped at some places. His hair fell in front of his face in greasy strands, obscuring most of it. The manacles around his wrists looked very tight and had drawn some blood, probably from pulling on them.

“Come on, Rutherford. He’s a refugee, we found him and decided to escort him to Denerim. You know how gentleman I can be.”

At that, the prisoner’s head lifted, an indignant expression on the visible part of his face. He pursed his lips in anger.

“Of course I know. You usually like to give up your weapon rather than actually fight me.”

Samson had another dry laugh, but his eyes looked panicked. “That was only one time.”

“Which I’m happy to keep reminding you.” Cullen lost his smile. “Now, Samson, will you release your prisoner or do I need to put you over my knee again?”

One of Samson’s men laughed loudly at that, to which Samson smacked him behind the head.

“Don’t laugh, you cretin!”

Cullen heard before he saw the slide of a sword being released from its sheath, quickly followed by a scream of pain. The man in chains retrieved the dagger from the man before anyone had time to react and dig it into another man’s side. He pushed it off his horse, losing his dagger, but the chain was loose enough he was able to retrieve the fallen man’s sword.

Cullen had taken out his own sword by this point, and with a circular movement, slashed the throat of the man beside Samson.

“Oh come on!” Samson screamed as the prisoner pulled on the fourth bandit’s leg, making him go sideway on the saddle. His foot got stuck in one of the stirrup irons, putting him at the perfect angle for his stomach to be run through by a sword.

Cullen shook himself from watching when Samson meant to attack the prisoner. The lad was still chained up but had managed to kill three people, and he was coming for Samson. Cullen was tempted to kill him himself, but instead he urged his horse forward and made the bandit’s leader fall off his horse by smacking him across the face with his gauntlet. He hissed in sympathy when Samson yelped from the ground.

“I’m sure it must have hurt.”

The chained man used his own chain to twist it around Samson’s neck. He grunted and pulled hard.

“Don’t kill him,” Cullen warned him as he touched ground. “He’d be way too happy to not respond for your kidnapping.”

He searched through his satchel for his waterskin. When he walked around his horse, he found the man was panting hard, an unconscious Samson at his feet. His tunic was even more ripped than he previously had been, now exposing most of his well-defined torso. Cullen could certainly work with that.

“That mongrel doesn’t deserve to live another day,” he talked for the first time, his voice raspy. Cullen approached him and offered his waterskin, watched him down its whole content.

“I know Samson appears as cruel and merciless, but he used to be a very good guy.”

“I’ll still kill good guys who try to enslave me.” He took another dagger and began to lockpick the lock.

“Do you need help with that?” Cullen asked, feeling a bit useless.

“I’m good, but thanks.”

“Aren’t you a little bit glad I stopped by?”

“I just needed the distraction.”

“Alright then, I suppose I shall you leave you all dirty in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country.”

“Please do.” He successfully opened his handcuffs.

“By the Maker, did they take you prisoner because you’re a runaway or because you’re a complete asshole?”

To his surprise, he began to laugh. He shoved down the collar of his shirt, exposing the metal collar. “I am an Altus, bred through generations of powerful mages to be the perfect heir and become the next Archon. How much money do you think my father put on my head to be returned home? I was chained and had to follow these pricks for days, I’ve had my fill of sexist and stupid comments for the rest of my life.”

“What’s your name?”

That earned a sarcastic quick reverence. “Dorian Pavus, most recently from Minrathous. How do you do, Knight Rutherford?”

Cullen gestured at his predicament. “You told me all of this while still wearing that collar, Dorian. What makes you think I won’t take from here and escort you back to your father?”

Dorian was in the middle of tying his hair away from his face, and from the first time Cullen stared back at his pale eyes. “Because I will knock you from your horse like I did to these men.”

Cullen swallowed, a little bit in love. “That is a correct answer. But, you know, speaking of that, any man can get knocked down. The hero is the man who gets back up. You are the hero in this story, I believe.”

Dorian stared at him before he finally shrugged. “Whatever.” He searched through Samson’s horse bags until he found a small key. With a little bit of fumbling, he unlocked the collar, which he then threw away as far as he could. Cullen would be lying if he didn’t admit he found his behavior hot. Deadly but hot.

“Care to accompany me to Denerim? I will indulge the King in your favor for your protection... and a bath.”

Dorian took an apple from a bag and bit into it. “Lead the way, savior of my heart.”


End file.
